by Holly Bourne
As if she could hear his thoughts, she appeared next to him.
“Rain?” she asked, her voice commanding his attention.
He jolted back to full consciousness and straightened his body in shock.
“Dr. Beaumont?”
He began tapping his keys to cover the fact he hadn’t been concentrating properly.
But the keyboard was suddenly obscured by a large backpack. It landed in front of him with a thump, shaking off the last of his dreamlike state.
“Get packing.”
“Packing?” Had he just been fired?
“There are clothes for you in your locker. You’ll probably need at least enough to last you two weeks.”
He turned to look at her. She looked a mess. Her hair, normally so immaculate, was all over the place, her glasses tangled up in it. And her face was blotchy, almost like she’d been crying…if she was the sort of person capable of crying.
“I don’t understand—” he began, but she cut him off.
“We’re going to England. The private plane leaves in half an hour.”
Rain looked in confusion from the bag to her face and back to the bag again.
“England?”
“Yes.”
“We’re actually going?”
“Yes. Now. You need to pack. Fast.”
He half-shook his head. “I still don’t understand.”
A flicker of impatience crossed her face. “What don’t you understand, Rain?”
He jabbed towards the monitors with his thumb. “The readings, there’ve barely been any. It’s been really calm.”
“Rain, Rain, Rain, have I taught you nothing?” She ran her hands through her hair. “Have you been watching the data?”
“Yes. It’s all been fine. That tolerance you keep going on about seems to be holding up.”
She looked at his screen and sneered. “You’ve only been watching the data that comes from when they’re together. You’ve not been reading their energy levels separately?”
He shook his head. “No. Why should I? It’s only when they’re together that we have to worry.”
“You stupid idiot.” She leaned over and pulled up the matches’ separate data for the past twenty-four hours. Rain immediately saw the massive spike in their individual energy readings, almost at exactly the same time.
He gasped. “What does that mean?”
“It means they’ve just decided to sleep together.”
His heart plummeted and dread crept through his body. “What? How? They’re not even in the same place.”
“They’re soulmates, Rain. They don’t have to be in the same room to make those sorts of decisions – they pick up on each other, remember?”
He stood up, urgency suddenly coursing through him. “We have to get to them.”
Anita nodded frantically. “I know. Pack. Now!”
He grabbed his bag and dashed away from his desk, but just as he got to the door he stopped and turned round.
“Anita? It’s an eight-hour flight. What if we don’t reach them in time?”
Any colour left in her face drained out of it. She barely whispered her reply.
“Then I’ve made a huge mistake.”
And so soon it was the day of the gig.
“You’re going to sleep with him tonight, aren’t you?” Lizzie said. She was hogging my dressing table while applying layer after layer of mascara.
“What? Don’t be silly. Of course I’m not.”
“You blatantly are.” Ruth was in the process of hogging my hair straighteners and had spent the best part of an hour flicking her red hair outwards. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have painted your toenails.”
I looked down at my perfectly pedicured feet that I’d spent all morning polishing. “Can’t a girl just want to have nice toenails?”
“You’ve never cared about your toenails much before,” Amanda said. She was hogging my other mirror and applying lip gloss. “You barely even bother painting them in summer when you’re wearing flip-flops.”
The girls had come round mine to get ready and have a few drinks before the gig. I’d been looking forward to it. Usually getting ready with the girls was the best part of any night but not this time. No. They were interrogating me for all I was worth.
I took a sip of my rosé wine and sat on the bed.
“I really don’t think my toenails have anything to do with whether or not I plan to sleep with my boyfriend.”
“You may think that,” said Lizzie, putting her mascara wand back in the tube and whipping out her eyeliner. “But subconsciously you’re considering it. That’s why you’re so obsessed with your appearance today.”
“I’m not obsessed with my appearance. I would just like to get ready in my own house without having all of you – ” I gestured towards them – “hogging all my reflective surfaces and belongings.”
Ruth turned off the straighteners and put them, still hot, smack down in the middle of my carpet. I winced but didn’t say anything.
“Oh chill out, Lawson,” she said. “We’re going to make you look beautiful. Don’t you worry.”
I took another sip of wine. “Yeah. About that…” I examined my un-made-up face in the mirror over Amanda’s head. “I think I’m fine to do my own hair and make-up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lizzie said. “Trust us. You’re going to look remarkable.”
“Remarkable doesn’t always mean good. Sometimes you remark on someone’s appearance because they look AWFUL.”
“Seriously, chill. You’ll look gorgeous. Trust us. We were right about the dress, weren’t we?”
I looked down at the beautiful green dress they’d convinced me to buy. It looked just as perfect as it had in the shop. In fact it looked so good I had to actively stop myself from checking out my reflection every two seconds.
Lizzie finished smearing kohl around her eyes and plonked everything back into her make-up bag.
“Voilà.” She pouted at her reflection. “All done.” She turned to me. “Right. Your turn.”
Ruth spritzed her hair with about a gallon of hairspray. “I’m done too. I can help.”
Oh dear God.
“Don’t look so scared.” Lizzie walked towards me with an evil glint in her eye, clutching her make-up bag like it was a dangerous weapon. “You’re going to look amazing. Noah’s going to think he’s won the lottery.”
I downed the rest of the rosé and closed my eyes.
“Go on then. Do your worst.”
I was scared to open my eyes again. Especially after hearing my friends mutter things like “Oops”, “Eww, not that colour” and “We should clean that up a bit”. So when Lizzie announced I was all done, I kept them shut.
“Thanks, guys. It looks great.”
“Poppy. You’re not looking at what we’ve done. Open your bloody eyes.”
I nervously opened one eye, then the other and slowly let myself look in the mirror.
I gasped.
The girl looking back didn’t look like me at all. She’d been replaced by some stunning sophisticated woman. Yes, woman. They’d done something to my eyes, kind of smokey, with green eyeshadow that perfectly matched the dress. Cheekbones I didn’t know existed had been sculpted using some kind of miracle-working blusher. My lips were a neutral colour, but a gloss had been added to them which tingled and gave me a bee-stung pout. And my usually drab hair was pinned back haphazardly, with a few stray ringlets framing my face.
“Do you like it?” Amanda asked, a make-up brush still in her hand. “Are the eyes too much?”
“I love them,” I said, unable to tear my gaze away from my own reflection.
“I did the hair,” Lizzie said. “Do you like your hair?”
“It’s gorgeous,” I admitted. “I don’t know how you did it but you have magical powers. I’ve never worked out how to use a kirby grip properly.”
“You’re definitely going to sleep with him now.” Ruth’s eyes were gleaming. “When N
oah sees you like this he’s not going to be able to help himself.”
“Wow, Ruth,” I said. “Was that an actual compliment?”
She stuck her tongue out. “You know what? I hate to admit it but you’re looking good, girl. I just wish I’d let Lizzie do my hair now. I wanted to see what state she made of yours first though.”
“And that,” I said, “is what you call karma.”
I picked up the wine and divided the rest of it between our glasses. We’d only shared one bottle. None of us wanted to get wasted and ruin the evening.
“I propose a toast, girlies. To having a most excellent evening.”
“I’ll toast to that,” Lizzie said.
“Me too,” said Amanda.
Ruth put her glass in to chink. “And here’s to Poppy finally getting it on.”
I turned to her in mock anger. “I. Am. Not. Going. To. Sleep. With. Him. The toenails mean nothing.”
Ruth took a sip of her drink.
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “Just wait until you see him onstage.”
We caught the bus to the arena in a blaze of girly spirits. The wine had made us more giggly and annoying than ever, and OAPs innocently trying to get their groceries home were getting increasingly vexed by our bad behaviour.
It started harmlessly enough with Ruth singing a Ponyboys song. This got us excited and soon we were all joining in. Then, when we’d exhausted all of their playlist, we moved onto Queen, our personal favourite. The problem was, when you’re slightly tipsy, you forget that other people aren’t tipsy too and our demands to get the bus driver to sing the Galileo bits of “Bohemian Rhapsody” weren’t met with a positive response. I don’t think it was the wine behind our annoying young-people-these-days-have-no-respect behaviour so much as the nervous excitement. The anticipation of what the evening held pulsed through our blood. The memories lay out before us, waiting to be made, and then called upon in decades’ time when we were old and boring.
When the relieved bus driver eventually dropped us off, the sun had set. Only a red streak from the day was left scorched across the sky, making the arena glow in an eerie light. Teenagers had already formed a queue of quivering underdressed bodies at the entrance. Girls stood with their arms pressed against their chests, tossing their hair back and laughing joyfully despite their lips turning blue and their bare tummies erupting in goose pimples. The boys were dressed in standard gig-going male attire – jeans and a band T-shirt. They were also pretending not to be cold, but they did this by puffing out their chests and distracting themselves by competing to see who could drink the most cans of bargain booze.
We stood looking at the crowd.
“There are a lot of people here already,” Amanda said, her teeth chattering and her arms crossed over her black dress. “The doors don’t even open for another hour.”
Ruth shrugged. “Ponyboys are a big band. People want the best view.”
Lizzie was jumping from one foot to another like a child needing a wee.
It was freezing. I could feel my skin pimple under the thin silk of my dress. “I’m just glad we can get inside straight away.”
Lizzie nodded. “Me too. Where do we need to go?”
I scanned the walls of the imposing arena. “I’m not sure. The stage door, I think. But I don’t know where it is.”
“Well, it won’t be at the front, will it?” Ruth said. “Let’s walk round the side. At least we’ll stay warm-ish if we’re walking.”
We began walking round the massive building. It seemed like the entire country could have fitted snugly inside, with room for houses as well.
“I can’t believe my boyfriend is playing a venue this big,” I muttered, almost to myself.
“Mine too!” Ruth interjected. “Don’t forget about Will.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “How could we?” she whispered, and I giggled under my breath.
After clopping along for a while in our high heels, an area full of white vans and a gigantic tour bus came into view.
“I think this is it,” Ruth said. “Wow. That must be the Ponyboys’ tour bus.”
“It’s huge,” said Amanda.
There was a bustle of activity around a pair of doors guarded by two morbidly-obese and scary-looking bouncers. They were wearing Men In Black-style suits and sunglasses, despite it being fully dark by now. They nodded as streams of stocky men carrying sound equipment trickled past them.
“I suppose they’re the guys who have our passes,” I said, gulping. I hoped Noah had remembered to put them at the door.
We clattered over, our giddy spirits well and truly concealed, knowing that any bad behaviour would end the evening early. The bouncers turned their heads towards us.
“Groupies have to queue like everyone else,” the bigger one said in a booming voice. “I don’t care which member of the band you’ve arranged to sleep with later, go back to the front entrance.”
Well, that pissed me off.
“We’re not fans,” I said curtly. “We’re close friends of the band—”
The slightly-less-fat one interrupted. “That’s what all fans say. Close friends, my arse. Round the front, girls. Come on.”
I bristled inside. “You’re not listening to me. We’re not silly fans. We’re here with the support band—”
The fat guy opened his mouth.
“—and before you interrupt me and insult us further, I suggest you actually check the list, where you’ll find our names printed.”
“Very well…” the thinner one said, looking angry. “What are your names?”
“Poppy Lawson, Elizabeth Heeley, Amanda Price and Ruth Cosmos.”
The man shuffled in his suit and pulled out a battered piece of paper.
“If you girls aren’t down here I’m not sure I can let you into the gig at all after that cheek.”
“Our names are there,” I said, crossing my fingers and praying like mad that Noah had remembered.
The bouncer’s eyebrows furrowed as he reached the bottom of the list. “Ahh. Here you are.”
I had such a strong desire to say “I told you so” but swallowed it down.
“Will you let us in now?” Ruth asked.
“Yeah.” He reluctantly stood to one side. “Through here and to the left.”
Once we were safely inside, our spirits recharged and we whooped with excitement.
“Bloody hell,” Amanda said. “I really didn’t think we were going to get in then.”
“Where the hell did that assertiveness come from, Poppy?” Lizzie asked. “Normally you’re too scared to send cold food back in restaurants, even if there’s still ice on it.”
I laughed. “I hate bouncers. They’re just bullies on a power-trip. They bring out the warrior in me.”
We wandered down the corridor, taking in the buzz around us. There were wires everywhere, miles and miles of them, and everyone we passed appeared to be carrying a clipboard. The corridor seemed to go on for ever. I had no sense of my bearings and hoped a left turn would materialize soon – my heels were killing me already.
Then, as if from nowhere, Noah and his band appeared.
He spotted us and smiled – a huge grin beamed directly at me.
“You made it!”
He looked AMAZING. My knees went weak just watching him walk towards me. He was wearing a ripped pair of dark jeans and a simple black T-shirt, but the shirt hugged every ripple of his chest and showcased the bulge of his arms. He was also wearing a necklace, a tribal-looking beaded thing I would normally mock, yet on Noah it looked casual and brilliant. He’d actually bothered to gel his hair into a slightly messy fifties-style sweep. I wanted to run my hands through it. I wanted to touch his face. My heart started thumping madly through the silk of my dress and it took all my self-control not to launch myself at him.
Then his arms were around me, giving me a hug, and I felt the wetness of him kissing my cheek and smelled his incredible scent.
“We almost didn’t get in,�
� I said, mid-hug. “The bouncers were horrible.”
“They’ve been a nightmare,” he said. “One called Brian’s wife a groupie and made her queue outside. She rang him in a right rage, demanding to know if he really had groupies.”
I pulled away from the hug. “Brian? As in Brian from Ponyboys? You’ve been chatting to him?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been hanging out all afternoon. They’re really cool.”
“Well, don’t you have friends in all the right places?”
He laughed. “I suppose I do.”
The others were all joking together behind us. Ruth had already given Will a massive public snog to “calm his nerves” and everyone was getting on well. Lizzie was telling them all about the bouncers and how fat they were and everyone laughed appreciatively.
It was much warmer inside and I shrugged off my coat.
“Is there anywhere I can put this?” I asked Noah. I held up my coat but he was just looking at me, transfixed. “What is it?”
“Poppy, you look incredible,” he whispered.
I blushed and coyly turned from side to side. “It’s my new dress. Do you like it?”
Noah was practically undressing me with his eyes. “Like it? Seriously. How am I supposed to concentrate with you in the audience looking like that?”
I smiled, revelling in the attention. Then I clicked my fingers in front of his eyes mockingly, like I was trying to break the hypnotic lust-spell.
“Coat,” I said. “Where can I put it?”
Noah grabbed my arm and steered me away. “Here. I’ll show you.”
He led me through his dressing room and into a little cupboard where lots of coats, scarves and bags were hanging up.
“Here,” he said. “You can collect it after the gig.”
“Thanks.” I pulled down a hanger and put my coat on it. When I turned round, I was greeted by Noah’s mouth. He pushed me backwards into the coats and wrapped his arms around me.
“Noah? What are you doing?”
He replied between repeatedly kissing my neck. “Come on. You look so gorgeous.”
“Don’t you need to rehearse or something?”
